


Alternaties

by debirlfan



Category: Boston Legal
Genre: M/M, Yuletide Treat, also breaks the 5th wall, breaks the 4th wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debirlfan/pseuds/debirlfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another time and place...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternaties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/gifts).



As Alan Shore watched, the final rays of the setting sun slipped below the horizon and below him, the city's lights twinkled on one by one. He glanced at his watch, noting the time. Only a few months earlier, the absence of his husband and partner would have concerned him. Now, knowing that the experimental drugs that Denny took to treat his “Mad Cow” disease were working, Alan was more annoyed than worried by Denny's tardiness. 

The swish of the door opening behind him was accompanied by the clink of glasses and a low grunt. Alan turned to find Denny approaching, juggling two glasses in one hand, a bottle of scotch in the other. An unlit cigar was clamped between his lips. 

Alan relieved Denny of the glasses. “You're late.”

Denny snorted around the cigar. He opened the bottle and sloshed scotch into both glasses before dropping his considerable bulk into one of the oversized chairs that furnished the Crane, Shore and Schmidt balcony. His hand disappeared into his pocket, returning with a lighter and a second cigar, which he passed to Alan before lighting his own. Denny puffed deeply, and a haze of smoke surrounded him by the time he answered. “We don't have an assigned time slot any more, Alan. These days Denny Crane sets his own schedule. That's why my name is first on the door.”

“Granted, but you kept me waiting.” Alan flinched as he realized just how that sounded. He didn't want to be one of those spouses. “If I'd realized you were going to be delayed, I could have spent the time abusing the paralegals,” he added, hoping to lighten the tone of his admonition.

“Shirley won't let me near the paralegals,” Denny grumbled.

Alan leaned close, allowing Denny to light his cigar for him. “I'm not allowed, either, but Shirley is off doing that interview for FYI news magazine. What she doesn't know won't get us in trouble.” Until someone filed sexual harassment charges, at any rate. It was probably safer to stay away from the help. “So what kept you this evening?”

“One of our clients came to see me.”

“Oh?” Alan was surprised that the client had gone to Denny. While it might be the Crane name that attracted the attention, it was Alan who handled most of the actual litigation. 

“That psychic from Arizona. Busty blond. Andrea?”

Mad Cow or not, Denny was still horrible at names, perhaps because he never paid much attention to them in the first place. “Allison, perhaps?”

“Yeah, that's it. Allison.”

“Someone else threatening to sue her?” Alan asked.

“No, it wasn't business.” Denny swirled his glass then gulped the scotch that remained in it. He refilled the glass. “She came to tell me she had a dream about us. Some sort of vision.”

“Oh?” Alan wasn't one for believing in the paranormal, but his research into their client had revealed that she had an amazing track record. It was accurate enough that he wasn't really sure what to think. “The two of us living happily ever after, I hope?”

Denny scowled. “Apparently it wasn't that sort of vision. It wasn't about the future. She said something about other time lines, or alternate realities. Something like that.” The older man gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Most of it didn't make much sense.” 

Alan knew his husband well enough to know that Denny had found something of interest in whatever Allison had told him, but it might take a bit to get him to admit it. “So what did she have to say?”

“She said there's another version of you that sells cars.”

Taking a sip of his scotch, Alan considered that. It was a job that required a glib tongue, and a certain talent for bending the truth. Had he not attended law school... “I could see that. Used cars, no doubt.”

“New. One of the wanna-be luxury brands, I think.”

By Denny's standards, that could mean anything short of a Bentley. “And you?”

“Faked my death in a bus accident, then ran off to become a surf bum.”

Alan laughed, nearly choking on his scotch. Denny on a surfboard was not something he could picture. Neither was Denny on a bus, for that matter. “What else did she see?”

“In another lifetime I'm a beat cop.”

“With an unhealthy doughnut obsession, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” Denny agreed, grinning. He blew a smoke ring. “She said something about you and a ring.”

“Perhaps she noticed that I'm wearing yours in the here and now.” Alan flashed the wide gold band that circled his ring finger.

Denny shook his head. “Not wearing. Going through, to another planet. Didn't make much sense to me. You were some sort of anthropologist.”

Alan tried to translate that. “Are you sure she didn't say astronaut, rather than anthropologist?”

“Anthropologist,” Denny confirmed. He chewed at his cigar. “Astronaut was a different time, and she hinted that it didn't end well.”

For reasons that he didn't understand, a chill ran through Alan, and he had a sudden image of a pair of eyes, one blue, one brown. He mentally shook himself. Whatever this psychic had told Denny was surely no more than a flight of fancy. Alan gulped the remainder of his scotch, telling himself that it was just sudden thirst.

If Denny noticed his discomfort, he didn't acknowledge it, simply refilling Alan's glass. 

“Astronaut, anthropologist, cop, surfer, it's all nonsense. I suspect Allison simply ate hot peppers or something before bed--” Alan broke off as his cell buzzed, and he fished the phone from his pocket. A quick glance showed the caller's name. He returned the phone to his pocket, letting the call go to voice mail.

“Aren't you going to answer that” Denny asked.

“No.”

His abrupt answer apparently intrigued Denny. “Unhappy client? Former lover looking for the father of her child?”

Alan sighed. “Neither. Courtney Reese.”

“The actress? Didn't I represent her once?”

While Denny might feign forgetfulness, Alan had no doubts that he knew exactly who she was. “I represented her. You tried to get into her pants.”

“What did she, shoot somebody else?”

“Fortunately not. She's in town working on a movie.” 

“And she's calling you because?” Denny prompted.

“Because she's trying to get into my pants.” It was the third time she'd called. “I've explained that I'm happily married, but she doesn't seem to get the message.”

Denny chuckled. “Trying to wear down your resistance?” 

“It's futile. Hopefully she'll head back to the west coast soon.” Alan studied his cigar. “So what else did Allison have to offer?” While the woman's visions made him distinctly uncomfortable, Alan preferred discussing those rather than the tall blond who had turned Denny down yet still insisted on pursuing him.

Denny didn't object to the change of topic, instead puffing up like a proud peacock. “In one universe, I'm a Captain.”

“Battleship?” Alan guessed.

“Starship. My best friend is a alien with pointy ears.”

Alan snorted. “You always have had a thing for elves.”

“Hey! Galactic hero here. Captain Crane. Captain Denny Crane. Boldly going where no man has gone before. Show some respect.”

Alan was sorely tempted to joke about precisely where Denny had been that no man had been before, but he held his tongue. Denny still considered himself straight, and Alan chose not to challenge that. Instead, he glanced at his watch again. It was growing late. “Given the hour, Captain, perhaps we should consider heading home for the night?”

Denny levered himself out of his chair. “Hmm. Perhaps I should 'boldly go' first, if you get my meaning.”

Alan snickered. “I'll bring this in,” he indicated the bottle and glasses, “While you tend to nature. Meet you downstairs?”

“Agreed.”

Standing, Alan watched Denny go, then gathered up the remains of their evening. He paused, and looked out over the city. From their new offices, one could just see the building that housed Chang, Poole and Lewiston.

It had bothered him at first, the occasional glimpse of their former offices a nagging reminder of how he had been treated—more importantly, of how Denny had been treated by his former partners. Edwin Poole couldn't really be blamed, but Paul had melted into a puddle of goo at the feet of the Chinese, shifting his allegiance to them without a second thought.

Time had healed those wounds, time and the knowledge that what they had now was better. Stronger. Himself, Denny, Shirley, Carl, Jerry, Katie. The core of a new firm, one that he was certain would eventually take on Chang, Poole and Lewiston. 

As he headed inside, Alan smiled to himself. When that day finally came, he had no doubt who would win.


End file.
